


I Always Get Lucky With You

by phdmama



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1000 feelings for which there are no names, M/M, That's really all it is, dine and dash, excess alcohol use, meet cute, the date from hell, the ziam is very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: When Louis complains that he’s been single too long, Niall decides to help him out by signing him up for Gaydar, a “dating” app. What happens when a great guy messages him?Just remember, not everything you read on the internet is true.





	I Always Get Lucky With You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> This fic was inspired by number 113: "The relief at being over six feet tall."
> 
> Huge thanks to Molly for vetting this for me! And massive thanks to letsjustsee for her graphic on the Tumblr post!
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction, meant only to entertain. Please do not break the 4th wall or post this fic anywhere else! I am not currently giving permession for any translations of my work, thanks for understanding!

Louis groans as he begins to wake, swimming towards consciousness like a diver rising from the seabed. He opens his eyes and promptly slams them shut again as the light pierces his brain like a bullet. As he rolls over, his movement is brought to an abrupt halt as he bumps up against another warm body in his bed. What the hell is happening? Who is in his bed?

He makes a second, brave (and brief) attempt to open his eyes, and is horrified to see the walls of his room are no longer the neutral beige he’s become accustomed to in the last year, but are now, rather, a soft blue.

“Someone’s painted my room?” he whispers in confusion, wondering how and when this could have happened. He’s pretty sure that when he left to meet up with Liam and Niall at the bar last night, his room had been...not blue.

The body next to him stirs and moans, and Louis hastily shuts his eyes again, figuring that if he can't see whoever this is, then the man won’t be able see him, and thus they’ll both avoid the massive embarrassment that is inescapably barreling down upon them.

“No one painted your room, you fucking idiot,” the other person groans and Louis sighs in relief as he recognizes the familiar Irish twang.

“Oh, thank god,” he groans, “It’s you, Nialler. I thought maybe I brought home a stranger. And what do you mean, no one painted my room? It’s clearly blue, Niall, _blue._ My room isn’t blue. My landlord is gonna kill me. Did we paint in while we were drunk?”

“No one painted your room,” Niall says patiently, “Because you’re at mine. _My_ room is blue, Louis. Remember? Are you still drunk?”

Judging by the way the room is spinning as Louis opens his eyes long enough to ascertain that yes, this is Niall’s room, and that no, it’s not the case that some burglar with a passion for home improvement has robbed him and painted his room this lovely French Blue, Niall may be onto something here. Louis closes his eyes once more and mumbles, “I do believe I am, Nail. What the fuck did we do last night?”

He feels rather than sees Niall shrug next to him. “We went to Redbones. We had dinner.”

Louis thinks for a moment and then says triumphantly, “Yes! And I ordered the hush puppies.”

“No,” Niall says thoughtfully, “I think that was Zayn, but then you shouted ‘BOYFRIEND TAX’ and took them and ate them.”

“Oh.” Louis’ stomach sinks, that’s right. They had gone out to meet Liam’s new boyfriend.

“DId I order the corn fritters?” he hazards, pretty sure he has at least a vague recollection of eating something maple-flavored.

“No,” Niall says patiently, “Those were Liam’s, but you told him that since he had abandoned you for Zayn’s...glorious ass, I believe was the phrase you used, he had to share, and so you ate them.”

“Oh.” Louis is quiet for a moment. “What _did_ I order?”

“Well,” Niall says judiciously, “Ale mostly. At first you were happy and offering toasts, but things got rocky when we moved downstairs.”

Louis sighs. “What did I do?”

“Oh,” Louis can hear the shrug in NIall’s voice, “You ended up draped over the bar, pointing to your ass and telling the bartender that you couldn’t understand why you didn’t have a boyfriend, ‘with a caboose like this, man’ was how you put it this time, and then when he tried to cut you off, you offered to kiss him for a shot.”

“What did he do?” Louis wonders.

“He accepted,” Niall snickers, “Even though,” he frowns, “I thought he was straight, and I think you did to, because you kissed the shit out of him, took the shot, yelled, ‘I STILL GOT IT. EVEN NON-GAY BOYS WANT TO KISS ME’.”

“Then what happened?” Louis asks, interested in spite of the secondhand embarrassment he’s feeling, though does it really count as secondhand if he’s embarrassed on account of his own behavior?

“Well, then you fell off the bar, and lay there on the ground, weeping softly, saying, ‘I’m going to die alone.’”

“So, the usual?”

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, “the usual. I brought you back here to sleep it off and you insisted on sleeping in my bed with me.”

“Oh,” Louis considers this for a moment. “Well, I always do that.”

“Yup,” Niall agrees. “Anyway, I think I solved your problem for you.”

“My problem?” Louis asks, a bit confused.

“Yeah, the no dates problem you were sad about last night. That was after the no boyfriend rant, remember? You were saying that you couldn’t even meet weirdos on the internet. So I signed you up for a dating app.”

“Err, you did? Which one?”

“Gaydar,” Niall says nonchalantly. “I made you a profile and everything! I turned notifications on, you should check your phone.”

“Wait, you did this on my phone?” Louis says, even more confused. “How do you know my passcode?”

“Yeah, a couple of months ago, I put my thumbprint in your phone so you wouldn’t need to give me your password.” Niall sounds very self-congratulatory, and Louis gives up trying to understand why Niall needs access to his phone, just hoping that Niall hasn’t been too traumatized by his collection of tasteful nude selfies.

Louis manages to roll over without throwing up, and pats around on the floor until he encounters his jeans. He hauls them up and sighs in relief to find his phone and wallet still in the pockets. He turns his phone on and stares blankly at the long list of notifications on the screen.

He closes his phone with a sigh and says, “I can't even right now, NIaller. Let’s get Motrin and breakfast, okay?”

As they’re walking towards the Rosebud, Louis says, “Zayn seemed...err, nice?” He tries to remember specifics, but he’d already been well on his way to drunk when they’d left for the restaurant last night, and apparently he’d been completely over the edge by the time Zayn and Liam had showed up, 15 minutes late. The details are hazy, but he remembers a warm smile and a soft, low chuckle.

Niall snorts. “Yeah, he seems lovely.” He elbows Louis affectionately. “He took _you_ in stride, for sure. Didn’t seem to mind it when you sat on his lap and made him and Liam kiss right in front of you so you could soak up the passion.”

Louis groans and feels himself flushing. It only gets worse when they walk into the diner and find Liam and Zayn already seated next to one another at a booth. Niall insists on jumping the line and sitting with them.

“Hey,” Louis mumbles as Liam asks with a warm smile, “How’s your head, Lou?”

“”Fine,” he huffs, “And, god, I’m so sorry I got so drunk last night, I don’t know what was going on.”

Liam gives him a concerned glance, “Yeah I haven't seen you that drunk or bummed out since Matthew left. I thought you were doing better.” He says to Zayn, “Matthew was Louis’s boyfriend, he fucked off to Hawaii to find himself about six months ago.”

Louis shrugs. “I’m fine,” he insists, and he is. “I don’t, like, miss Matthew, or want him back or anything. It’s more…” He sighs. “I just miss that companionship, you know? Having someone to make dinner with, talk to about my day. I mean, I know I have you lot,” and here Niall coos at him and squeezes his cheeks into a pout that he plants an smacking kiss on. Louis swats him away and continues. “But I haven’t even been on a date in like five months.”

“Oh yeah,” Niall exclaims as the waitress pours them all coffee, “Lou, check your fucking phone.” He yelps as the waitress, without missing a beat, smacks him over the head with the pile of menus she’s holding, drops them on the table and moves off without saying a word.

“Sorry, Sandra!” he calls to her retreating back, and at Zayn’s puzzled look, says, “That’s my cousin. She doesn’t like swearing.”

“Fuck off,” calls Sandra as she disappears through the swinging half-doors into the kitchen and Louis snorts.

“Okay, fine,” he says, and pulls out his phone as Niall explains what he’s done.

He scrolls through and finds an unfamiliar rainbow icon. He pulls it up and frowns. “Niall,” he says slowly as he opens the app, “How drunk were you last night?”

“Um, pretty drunk I think,” Niall says. “Why?”

“Because,” Louis hisses, “You made my screenname CutestBooBear! What the fuck?”

He taps on the little mailbox icon and begins skimming the messages. His eyes get wider and wider and he can feel himself turning fire-engine red as he reads.

“Holy shit,” he says, “I have 87 messages. I’m...beginning to think this isn’t a dating app, Niall.” He hands the phone over to Niall who reads through a few and also begins flushing.

“Whoa, guys are really forward, aren’t they?” Then he pauses, taps the screen, hands the phones back to Louis. “Wait, check out this one.”

Louis brings the phone a bit closer to his face and reads the message.

_Heyyyy there. Liked your screen name, *really* liked your picture. ;) I’m Adam, I’m 23, living in Cambridge, just moved here from Manhattan, going to grad school, looking to meet people. HMU if you wanna chat. Love a guy who can take care of himself!_

Louis frowns a bit at that last line and then taps on the link that takes him to Adam’s (filmguy94) profile and takes a look. His eyes widen as he says to the others, “Fuck, he’s 6’1”.”

At that, the others snicker and then Zayn says in his slow drawl, “No fucking way.”

“What?” Louis says, confused. “What do you mean?

Sandra returns to top off their coffee and take their orders, fixing Niall with an eagle eye as he tries to order sausage and bacon. “No,” is all she says and when he tries to protest, she simply snaps her fingers in his face and he goes silent.

“No, really,” Louis says to Zayn, “Why not, do you think he’s lying?”

Zayn bursts out laughing and says “Of _course_ he’s lying! It’s a hookup app!” He stares around at the faces looking back at him and says slowly, “Wait a minute, haven’t any of you ever used one of these things before?”

As one, Liam, Niall and Louis all shake their heads. Zayn sighs. “Well, I wasn’t too active on Gaydar, but yeah, people lie all the time.”

Liam frowns, “About what? Did _you_ lie?”

Zayn gives a wicked grin and says only, “I don’t have to lie.”

There’s a moment of silence as they all contemplate him. Louis notes absently the way the sun streaming through the windows seem to shine only on Zayn, as it dances across his skin, touching it with the color of honey. He sees the way Zayn’s eyes seem to shimmer, amber ringed with mahogany, fringed with long dark lashes. He eyes the sharp line of Zayn’s jaw, covered in a light scruff, the height of his cheekbones, the curve of his perfect ear.

“Uh yeah, okay, fair point,” he concedes.

Zayn continues. “People lie about the stupidest things. Like, no one’s gonna check your resume, but lying about your height or your weight, the size of your cock, that’s just stupid.”

Sandra sets down their breakfasts and mutters, “Tell me about it,” and walks away before they can ask for more coffee.

“She’ll be back,” Niall says uncertainly, “I’m pretty sure she’ll be back.”

There’s a moment of silence as they dig in, and Louis gives a small prayer of thanks for the ibuprofen that’s allowing him to not be dead right now.

“So,” he says finally, swallowing a very large bite of pancakes, “You think Adam is lying about his height?”

Zayn shrugs, “I mean, I don’t know, of course, but statistically speaking, probably.”

Suddenly Louis looks at Niall as something occurs to him. “Fuck, Niall, did you lie on _my_ profile?”

Niall flushes and looks down at his food. “Uh, no?”

Louis quickly opens the profile tab and skims his eyes over it. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Blue. Height: 5’ 9”. Body type: Athletic. He looks up, “Okay, this looks right.”

Niall takes a big bite of his omelet and mutters around it something that may be “check the description thing.”

So Louis keeps reading, and suddenly gives a screech of outrage. “What? ‘I am 23 years old, taking a bit of time off between college and grad school, living in Davis Square, working as a paralegal. I’m looking for more than just a hookup. I love to hang out with friends, play video games, act in local theater productions and cook.’ _And cook, Niall?_ Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Because,” Niall argues, “I thought you needed something to show that you’re really a domestic goddess, mate, because otherwise you sound like a feckless kid.”

“Niall,” Louis says firmly, “I _am_ a feckless kid.”

“Louis,” Niall says back, just as firmly, “You are 23 years old. Any guy worth dating isn’t going to want a guy who just sits around in his underwear playing Mario Kart, eating ramen from the package.”

“The ramen was one time,” Louis cries indignantly. “One fucking time, man, and I was eighteen years old, Jesus, you’ve never let me live that down.”

Zayn and Liam are snickering and Louis sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “I’m going to have to change this…” His voice trails off as he remember the last sentence of Adam’s note, which makes a lot more sense now that he knows what Niall’s put in his profile.

He looks unhappily at the others and says, “I’m gonna have to learn to cook, aren’t I.”

After breakfast, Louis wanders back to his studio apartment. He lives on the other side of Davis Square from Niall and Liam, so he says goodbye to them all at the corner and heads on his way. He promises to text Niall immediately if anything happens with Gaydar. When he gets home, he runs himself a bath, tosses in his favorite bath bomb from Lush, and soaks away the afternoon and the last of his hangover while going through his messages.

The photo that Niall had put up was one of his black and white headshots, and Louis has to admit, he looks good in it, his grin is sparkling and mischievous. As he reads through the replies to Niall’s post, most of them are just straight-up raunchy (if total strangers offering to stick their tongue up your ass can be considered straight, Louis snickers to himself, wishing he had somebody to share the joke with). It’s not that Louis has anything against hookups, it’s just not where he’s at, at this point of his life. Sure, he’d be interested in some great sex, but he wants more.

He wants someone to hold hands with as they drift off to sleep. He wants a standing date every Friday night, even if it’s just to go grocery shopping or do laundry. He wants someone to celebrate with when things go right and someone to hold him when things are tough. He wants someone to tell the crazy stories he hears at work to. He wants to give all that back, to have someone to listen to and support in return. He’s been an “I” long enough. He wants to be part of a “we”.

*****

Ten minutes into his first date with Adam, and Louis is already sure. This is not going to work. He and Adam had started by messaging through the app, and by that Wednesday, Adam had sent his number and now they were texting. They’d talked for the first time on Sunday, and now, two weeks after Niall had signed Louis up for Gaydar, they were having their first, and, Louis is quite sure, their last, date.

Adam had asked if he could take Louis out to dinner on Saturday night, and had suggested Gargoyles in Davis Square. Louis had mentally raised an eyebrow at that as Gargoyles is definitely a white linen kind of place, but had agreed. They’d talked a bit beforehand, and now, Louis is standing outside, waiting for Adam to arrive. He’s looking towards the center of the square, where the T stop is, and jumps in surprise when he hears a voice behind him say tentatively, “Louis?”

He turns and looks up. And up. And up some more, because this is definitely Adam, and he has _definitely_ lied about his height on the app, and is clearly closer to 6’5” than 6’1”. This is the first clue Louis has that things may not be what he expects, and he remembers Zayn’s point. Why lie about something that’s just demonstrable fact? And in this case, why lie saying he’s shorter? He files this away under “questions I may never get an answer to but I’ll definitely ask when I’m drunk.”

“Hey, Adam,” he says hastily and holds out his hand, “Hey, yeah, I’m Louis. Nice to meet you.”

Adam offers him a limp hand and Louis has to fight to keep from grimacing. It’s better than Adam using his size and grip to intimidate Louis (who has been on the receiving end of that as well), but it’s not a great first impression. He reminds himself that his mother’s always said to give people a chance to show you who they really are (and, he reminds himself of the second part of her homespun wisdom, that when people show you who they really are, _believe them)._

So, determined not to judge Adam solely on his height or his handshake, Louis smiles brightly and says, “It’s great to meet you, shall we go in?”

It’s 7:00 on a Saturday night, and the restaurant is busy but not jam-packed yet. Louis had worked his way through undergrad at a place not unlike this one, and smiles a bit in recognition.  Adam has made a reservation, so the hostess leads them into the back room and sets them up at a cozy two-top near the fireplace. It’s cool for April, and Louis appreciates the glow and warmth as they get seated.

“Welcome to Gargoyles on the Square,” says a cheerful voice as Louis slides into his seat. He glances up at the waiter, a man about his own age with dark hair pulled up into a bun and the biggest dimples Louis has ever seen in real life. “My name’s Harry and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink to start with?”

The next few minutes are taken up with placing their drink orders and opening their menus, and then Adam says, “It’s great to meet you in person, Louis.”

Louis smiles back. “Same,” he says.

Conversation doesn’t exactly flow easily though, which is unusual for Louis, who can, as his mother has always said, talk his way out of a paper bag. He admits he doesn’t always fully understand his mother’s sayings, but has always taken this one to mean that he’s good at small talk. Or getting out of bad situations. Or something like that.

He knows from their texting that Adam had moved to Cambridge in the fall to start grad school in film at Harvard, but hasn’t shared his own plans yet.

“How was school this week?” He asks, after they cover the traffic and parking in the square, and the unseasonably cool weather they're having. “Did you get your paper back?”

At that, Adam frowns for a moment, and says “Yeah, it didn’t go as well as I thought it would, which is so annoying. This professor’s such a dick, thinks he’s so smart and knows everything, but he’s really an idiot.”

Huh. Louis doesn’t know a whole lot about film academia but he kind of thought that if you were a professor at Harvard, you had to be a member of the smarty-pants set, like it was a prerequisite or something.

“That’s frustrating,” he says finally, “Are you going to rewrite the paper?”

Adam shakes his head. “No, I think he just didn’t like that I was right, you know? I’m not going to compromise my vision for some stuffy old guy. Anyway, how about you? Your profile said you’re taking time off before grad school?”

“Yeah,” Louis grins, feeling the leap of excitement. “Yeah, I’m going to be starting at Tufts in the fall as a law student.”

Adam’s face falls slightly and then he says a bit too casually, “Tufts? Oh yeah, that’s great, Louis. Did you not look at any of the, you know, other schools around here?”

Louis feels a stab of irritation as he knows exactly what Adam is talking about, and resists the urge to put him in his place. “I did, actually. I got into Northeastern, BC, BU, Tufts and...Harvard.” He takes a sip of water and murmurs his thanks to the waiter, Harry, he reminds himself, who is setting down his glass of wine and Adam’s scotch.

Adam sips his drink and says incredulously, “Wait, you turned down _Harvard?_ Why?” His tone is shocked, as if what Louis is saying is beyond his comprehension.

Louis shrugs and takes a moment to appreciate the crisp and fruity Sauvignon Blanc he’d selected. “Because Harvard offered me a $10,000 grant and Tufts offered me a full ride and living stipend. S’a no-brainer, really. I can focus on constitutional law at either place, and I’ll pass the bar the same whether I go to Harvard or Tufts. And I won’t have $250,000 of debt when I graduate.”

Adam shakes his head. “I can’t believe your parents would let you turn down Harvard though,” he argues and Louis feels another stab of irritation. “I mean, do they _know_ what an opportunity it is.”

“My _mom,”_ Louis emphasizes, “Trusts me to make the best decision for my future that I can, weighing all the variables.”

Adam is just looking at him, and Louis doesn’t think he’s imagining the hint of smug satisfaction as Adam says, “Well, my folks offered to pay for me to go to Harvard, so I wouldn’t miss out on all the doors it could open.”

Louis stares at him, unsure if Adam is really so clueless as to not understand how offensive he’s being, or if he’s just that much of a dick. The jury is still out.

He glances up as Harry clears his throat and asks, “Do you gentlemen need a bit more time to look at the menu?”

Louis frowns as Adam says impatiently, without even looking at Harry, “Yeah, yeah, we haven’t even looked at them yet, man,” and waves Harry off. Being rude to waiters is not cool, in Louis’ book, not cool at all.

They take a minute to scan the menu, and then Adam says, “Okay, I know what I’m having. What are you thinking, Louis?”

Louis sighs, already wanting the evening to be over, but truth is, he’s also really hungry. “I’m not sure,” he says slowly, “It all looks really good. I’ll decide when Harry gets back.”

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Harry approaches them carefully and Adam says, “We’re ready to order now. We’d like the tuna poke and the shrimp tacos for appetizers, and then I’ll have the crispy duck confit and my date will have the herb rubbed pork tenderloin.”

Louis’ jaw drops as he stares at Adam, who seems oblivious to his look. What the actual fuck? Did this guy just order for him without even consulting him? Maybe Louis is allergic to shrimp. He’s not, and the shrimp tacos _do_ sound delicious, but he hadn’t been considering the pork at all.

He sees Harry glance quickly between them and is opening his mouth to speak when Adam continues, “Oh and we’ll have a bottle of the Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc.” Adma closes his menu with a snap, and reaching over, pulls Louis’ menu out of his unresisting hands and offers them up to Harry.

As Harry turns to walk away, Louis speaks up, damned if he’s going to let this stand.

“Actually, Harry, I’d like to change my order. Which do you recommend, between the hangar steak and the crispy sesame tofu?”

Harry seems to be fighting to keep his smile from turning into a smirk as he halts and says “Well, those are really different flavors, so I think it really just depends on what you’re in the mood for? They’re both delicious. The steak is, of course, a heavier meal with the herb frites, while the tofu is lighter, with the soba noodles.”

Louis can sense Adam’s irritation so he plays up his smile a bit, watching as Harry’s dimples deepen in response. “What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, the tofu,” Harry says without hesitation, “But I’m not a big meat eater. I love the sesame sauce we have, and the mushrooms are divine.”

“Well,” Louis says decisively, “That’s what I’ll have, then. Thanks, Harry,” and nodding, Harry heads back to his station where Louis knows he’ll be punching in their order.

As the evening continues, Louis’ certainty that Adam is not the right fit for him is solidified. At one point, Louis says carefully, “So I have to ask, Adam, why lie on your profile?”

Adam stares at him. “What did you think I lied about?”

“Err, well, your height?”  Louis says. “I mean, your profile says you’re 6’1” but you’re clearly taller than that.”

“Oh,” Adam smirks, “Saying I’m 6’1” gets me the benefit of being tall without the size queens all over my inbox. I mean, most guys want a tall man, at least six feet. No offense, of course. But I got tired of guys assuming that just because I’m really big, that I’m super-hung too. I mean, I am. It’s all proportional, isn’t it? But I didn’t like being treated like I was just a giant dick.”

Louis thinks that these other men may have been picking up on something other than Adam’s height and what that might indicate about his penis size, but doesn’t comment, and Adam changes the subject. He talks at length about how great a city Manhattan is, and how small Boston is in comparison.

“Did you grow up there?” Louis asks curiously, as he can’t hear a New York accent.

“Uh, no, actually,” Adam looks a bit embarrassed, “I grew up in Ohio, Plain City. Middle of fucking nowhere, man, tiny little town. Can you imagine being a gay kid who wants to study film in Central Ohio?” The chagrin on his face almost humanizes him until he opens his mouth again.

“How about you, Louis, where’d you grow up? Not around here, of course, I could hear it in your accent.”

“Actually,” Louis drawls, leaning back in his chair, “I grew up right over the border in Medford.” He can’t help himself, he softens the Ds deliberately. He knows he’s lost a lot of his outrageous accent, going to college in California will do that to a Boston boy, but something about Adam’s comments makes him want to drop his Rs like a motherfucking Kennedy.

“Oh,” Adam says, clearly taken aback. “Well, uh, yeah, that’s great, so you’re back living close to home then.”

They make their way through the appetizers, which are amazing, with Harry popping in now and then to see if they need anything. Adam gets more and more annoyed and finally says to Louis, loudly enough that Louis knows he’s intending for Harry to hear, “This guy’s annoying, huh? Why’s he keep bothering us?”

“I worked at a place a lot like this out in Berkeley,” Louis says, “Restuarants like this, yeah they have great food, but they make their reputation on service, too. He’s just doing his job the way he’s been trained to.”

Their entrees arrive and Louis almost groans allowed at the taste of his crispy tofu. “Wow,” he says, washing his bite down with a sip of the expensive wine Adam had ordered, which is, he admits, delicious. “This is amazing. How’s the duck?”

Adam makes a bit of a face, “I kind of pride myself on being a bit of a foodie,” he says, “It’s a bit dry. Do you want a bite?”

Louis happily accepts the bite that Adam offers and stares at him as he chews and swallows. If this duck is dry, then Louis is a hamster. “That’s amazing,” he says after a moment.

“Well,” Adam shrugs, “You know, most people can’t really tell, but yeah, I’ve studied food quite a bit.” And with that, he’s off on the different restaurants he’s tried in Manhattan, dropping names as if they’ll mean something to Louis. Louis tunes out for a bit as he savors his dinner, it’s really exquisite.

“Of course,” Adam is saying as Louis tunes back in, “you can’t get great seafood in the midwest, though there was this place near where we have our summer hour on Lake Michigan that did okay. How about you, Louis, growing up here, you must have summered on the Cape?”

Louis can’t help himself, he snorts. “Adam, people like me don’t summer on the Cape. We summer in our summer homes which are the same as our winter homes.”

Louis hears what sounds almost like a soft hum of approval as Harry fills his water glass and Louis offers a quiet thanks.

“Oh,” Adam says, floundering a bit, “I mean, I just assumed everyone had a place on the Cape.”

Louis stares at him. “Do you know how much those places cost?” He laughs a bit coldly, “Yeah, that’s not what I come from, man.”

There’s an awkward silence as Harry clears their plates and says diffidently, “Would either of you like to see a dessert menu?”

Louis shakes his head and Adam says curtly, “I’ll have a decaf and the check.”

Harry nods, and Louis is amazed by his ability to maintain a pleasant face, at least until he turns his back on them. Louis would bet money that Harry’s been bitching about them to his coworkers in the kitchen, and he doesn’t blame him one bit.

After Harry drops the check and Adam’s coffee, Louis says, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to head to the restroom.”

As he stands, Adam grabs his wrist and tugs, pulling Louis in closer, and whispers in his ear, “Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll take your time in the restroom. I’ll get a call, and have to leave, and when you’re done, just walk out the door and meet me around the corner.”

He’s grinning, his eyes sparkling as if he’s proposed a lovely joke, and Louis stares at him in horror. “What?” he hisses, “Are you saying you want to pull a dine and dash?”

Adam shrugs. “This is gonna be like a $150 meal, Louis and I’m a bit short on cash at the moment.”

“That is not cool,” Louis says angrily, “Completely not cool. Do _not_ do that, Adam. That’s just wrong.”

He yanks his wrist away and walks quickly to the bathroom. Even though he speeds his way through his biological processes as quickly as is humanly possible, his stomach sinks as he hurries back through the restaurant, wiping his damp hands on his slacks. He can see the cozy little table as he walks across the room, and of course, it’s obvious even from here.

Adam is gone.

Louis drops into his chair and, with a groan, sips his wine and closes his eyes in frustration. He can’t quite believe that a guy who seemed somewhat normal on the internet turned out to be such a jerk. His eyes open as he hears a small cough next to him, and he turns to look up into Harry’s concerned eyes.

“Um, I just,” Harry seems at a loss for words, “Are you okay?”

Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, mostly.”

“He fucked off, didn’t he.” Harry asks, “Your date?”

Louis huffs out a sigh of frustration. “He sure did. He told me he was going to, tried to get me to go with him.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widen in shock. “He was going to eat and street?”

“Oh, that’s a good one, I haven’t heard that one before,” Louis says. He takes another long draw on his wine, and nods in agreement as Harry lifts the bottle to refill his glass. “Might as well.”

Louis grabs the check and feels a sinking sensation in his stomach as he looks at the circled total, the cheerful, “Thank you” written in a flourish next to it. “Fuck, Harry. I’m going to need to talk to your manager when he has a moment.”

Harry, bless him, only nods and clears some of the dishes from the table before saying, “I’ll go get him.”

Harry walks away, his shoulders hunched around his ears, and Louis wonders idly as he watches him what’s got him so upset. He seems like a nice guy, this Harry does, and Louis doesn’t want anyone else to be having a bad evening too. And, he thinks, maybe he should slow down on the wine.

Harry reappears a couple of moments later with an older man dressed in a lovely suit, with long dark hair that flows down to the center of his back. He slides into Adam’s abandoned seat opposite of Louis and says with a look of concern, “Hey man, Harry filled me in a bit on your evening. I’m Steve. What can I help you with?”

Louis sighs. “Hi Steve, I’m Louis Tomlinson. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to let me set up a payment plan with the restaurant for this bill. I didn’t realize how expensive it was going to be, and when Adam asked me out, he said it would be his treat. I just can’t afford a $150 bill this week. This month, really.”

Steve’s gaze holds Louis’ and the warmth on his face is clear. “Harry mentioned that your...date asked you to chew and screw with him, but you said no. Why is that? I’m assuming you knew he was going to take off and stick you with the bill.”

“Yeah, I knew.” Louis runs a hand through his hair. “I would just never ever do that. It’s wrong. Harry did a great job, the food was wonderful, the place is lovely. You all deserve to be paid for your work, and I know a lot of places make the servers pay when someone pulls this shit, and I’d never do that to someone else. I mean, I _was_ a waiter, and it happened to me a couple of times, and it’s just a shitty thing to do.”

At that, Steve smiles. “Harry figured you’d been a server, yourself. He said you were super-polite, and former servers always say, ‘when you have a moment.’” He picks up the bill, pushes the chair back and stands. “Don’t worry about the bill, Louis. We’ll take care of it tonight.”

Louis stares at him in shock. “What? Wait, you’re not going to make Harry pay for it, are you?”

Steve laughs, “Maybe Harry didn’t mention. I’m not just the manager, Louis, I’m the owner. I can certainly afford to comp your meal tonight, and my genuine apologies that you had such an unpleasant evening here. I’d hate to think it’s turned you off Gargoyles, we do pride ourselves on offering an exceptional experience.”

Louis feels his shoulders sag in relief that he’s not going to have to come up with an extra $150 this month. The tip he’s going to leave will hurt, but he can take it easy this month anyway, and he’s not about to stiff Harry. He smiles at Steve and says, “Thank you, Steve, I can’t tell you how much that helps. In any case, everything about the evening was lovely except the company, and I can’t blame that on anyone but me.”

Steve just shrugs and says, “First date, yeah?”

Louis nods.

“Well, don’t blame yourself too much, man, we’ve all been there. Just think, it’ll be a great story to tell your grandkids some day. Don’t let this ruin the rest of your night, okay?”

He walks away with the bill in his hand, and Louis leans back in his chair. He takes another sip of wine, and then pulls out his phone and texts Niall.

Louissss: You up, man?

Nialler: yeah whats up? hows the date?

Louissss: Oh do I have a story for you. Can I come over? I’m in the square.

Nailler: Yeah sure, c’mon. Pick up some beer?

Louissss: Sure.

Louis takes one last sip of the delicious wine and stands. He yanks on his jacket, and then, pulling out his wallet, tosses two twenties onto the table, which leaves him enough to go buy beer for Niall and take a cab home later. It’s not payday for another week, so he’s going to be living off of sandwiches and ramen this week, but that’s okay.

As he heads to the front of the restaurant, he sees Harry dropping off a bill to another table, and he realizes that it’s later than he’d thought, and the restaurant has emptied out, although the bar is still quite crowded.

He waits until Harry is done chatting, and as he turns away, places a hand on his arm for a moment to grab his attention. “Harry, hey,” he says, and Harry turns with a friendly smile that deepens into something else when he sees who it is.

“Hey, Louis, right? Sorry about your evening, man, that sucks.”

Louis shrugs, “Can you thank Steve again for me? That was totally gracious of him.”

“He’s a great boss,” Harry agrees, “And when I explained…” his voice trails off and inexplicably he flushes a bit, “Yeah, it’s no problem. I hope I, I mean _we_ , see you in here again.”

Louis grins a bit self-deprecatingly and says, “I’ll have to save my pennies and make it happen, Harry. Thanks for everything.”

They stare at each other for another heartbeat or two and Louis can’t help the smile that crosses his face. Finally, there’s nothing more keeping him there, and he reluctantly heads out into the cold of the night.

He’s about halfway down the block when he hears his name being shouted and the sound of feet pounding on the pavement, and as he stops and turns, Harry races up to him, his breath coming fast and heavy, steaming in the cool air. He’s clutching something in his hand that he waves accusingly at Louis, and it takes Louis a moment to realize that it’s the two twenties he’d left as a tip.

“What the fuck is this,” Harry pants, thrusting the money towards Louis. He sounds pissed and Louis is bewildered.

“It’s your tip, Harry, for your work tonight.”

“Louis, you didn’t have to tip me.” Harry is clearly upset by this, and Louis isn't following him at all.

“What? Of course I did!” Louis exclaims, “Harry, you did the work, I know how it goes, you should be tipped.”

“Louis,” Harry runs a hand through his hair, “It’s just. Can you afford this? I know you were worried about paying for dinner.”

Louis’ face breaks into a foolish smile and he looks more closely at Harry. He’s starting to think Harry is as lovely on the inside as he is on the outside. “Yeah, I can swing it, Harry. I mean, it’ll be a bit tight this week, but that mainly means I’m going to have make my own coffee instead of buying it at the Someday. I get paid Friday, so it’s fine.”

Harry tries to hand Louis one of the twenties back, saying “At least let me give you this back, okay? I mean, I really don’t feel right keeping the whole thing.

Louis shakes his head, already endeared by this man. “Did you really chase after me to try and give back your tip? No, Harry, I’m not going to let you give me money back. You did a great job.”

Harry frowns and then suddenly, something seems to occur to him, and he gives a sly smile. “Fine. Okay. I’ll keep the tip without complaint on one condition.”

Louis raises one eyebrow, heart suddenly pounding. “Okay, let’s hear it, then, this condition of yours.”

Harry takes a deep breath and Louis can see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he says a bit shakily, “I’ll keep it on the condition that you let me spend it on buying you a drink some time soon.”

Louis stares at him. “What?”

Harry takes a step closer, and smiles widely. “I just, I was listening in all night, Louis, and _god,_ that guy was such a prick but you were so amazing, I couldn’t even take my eyes off of you. You were patient and kind even when he was a condescending douche bag, and then, the way you behaved at the end. It was honorable, Louis, and I just.” Here he pauses and looks a bit sad for a moment, running his hand through his tousled hair again, “I haven’t met very many guys that I could say that about, and when you left, I just heard this little voice inside of me say, ‘if you let him go without saying anything, you’re a fool.’ And I’m lots of things, Louis, but I’m _not_ a fool.”

Louis pauses as certainty settles in his gut, and then, finally, he smiles. He knew within a few minutes at the beginning of the date, he remembers, that Adam was not for him. Maybe it’s foolish to feel so sure about something that he can’t possibly yet know, but he hears it too, that small voice inside that says, “Don’t walk away from this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.” Harry took a chance by listening to that voice, and now it’s his turn. He looks at Harry’s beautiful face, shining in the light of the street lamp on this cold April evening and feels a leap of anticipation as he opens his mouth to speak.

Then something occurs to him, and he pauses. “Can I ask you something?”

Harry nods, looking wary. “Sure, yeah.”

“Harry,” Louis says seriously, “How tall are you?”

Harry gives him a puzzled look and then, shaking his head a bit, says, “I’m 5’11”. Does that matter?”

Louis gives him a beaming grin and says, “It doesn’t matter in the slightest.”

“Okay,” Harry nods and takes a breath, “So. What do you say? May I take you out for a drink? Please?”

Louis suddenly flashes back to being a kid and going to the lake with his friends, and swinging out over the water on the rope swing. This feels almost like the moment right before you’d let go and drop into the cold water, shouting in delight. That moment of breathless anticipation. He takes a deep breath and thinks to himself, _It’s time to jump._ He opens his mouth to speak and says,

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say come say hi on Tumblr! If you enjoyed this, the rest of my writing can be found here!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and if you feel so inspired, feel free to leave a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter!


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